All Work and No Play
by elincia
Summary: Albel doesn't seem to think that all work and no play makes Mackwell a dull boy. MackwellAlbel crack.


**Title**: All Work and No Play  
**Author**: keelhaul lizzie  
**Pairings**: Mackwell/Albel. Mackbel, if you will.  
**Rating**: PG-15  
**Genres**: Humour  
**Summary**: Albel doesn't seem to think that all work and no play makes Mackwell a dull boy.  
**Wordcount**: 775  
**Warnings**: vague mentions of secks. Crack.  
**Date**: August 20, 2006

----

The workshop in Peterny was, for once, mercifully empty. When Albel strode in out of pure boredom, the only person there had been that Mackwell man, hunched over his desk at the back as usual, fiddling away with a rainbow of rocks and minerals.

Albel sat on the edge of his desk and stared down at his work as if it was the most pathetically insignificant thing he'd ever seen. He had nothing better to do.

As usual, Mackwell simply grunted, "go away," laconic as ever. When Mackwell deigned to look up at the person invading his space, Albel noted that the man's eyes were almost the same shade of vermilion as his own. Come to think of it, Mackwell also had two trailing tails of hair like he did, and even seemed to enjoy the same colour palate.

Mackwell looked a lot like himself.

And that was hot.

Albel found that _he _was getting rather hot as Mackwell obstinately returned to his work; it was the barely-contained near-ecstacy on his face while he attended to his task.

Albel began to wonder if he made that face while attending to certain _other _tasks.

"You know," he began, shifting a little to expose more of one pale thigh, "you and I are rather similar."

"Really."

"Yes... you seem just as... _passionate _as I am."

When Mackwell finally looked up he noticed Albel was leaning uncomfortably close.

He also noticed that Albel had a _very _nice stomach.

And those legs...

Ugh. He _hated _distractions.

"Er."

"And the... _pleasure _you get from alchemy is so similar to that of mine on the battlefield..."

"Uh."

Albel's face was practically an inch away from his own; Mackwell could taste his hot breath. "God, you're so hot."

"What?"

"Fuck me."

"_What_?"

"Are you _deaf_, worm? I said fuck me!"

Mackwell considered for a moment. It wasn't part of his contract, but...

"...Okay."

----

All Fayt had needed was a berry potion. Just one. _One _damned berry potion and a desk to make it at.

Fayt immediately noted upon walking into Peterny's workshop that that desk was otherwise occupied. It didn't take too long to realize what he had walked in on.

Fayt could only see his back, but Mackwell appeared to be garbed in only his red robe, a slim pair of not-entirely-unfeminine legs wrapped around his waist, still clad in a pair of violet thigh-highs.

Oh god.

"H-harder, you worm!" the pair of legs said in a very growly, husky sort of voice. There followed a series of rather lewd noises that wouldn't have been entirely out-of-place in the sort of thing Fayt liked to sneak peeks at back in high school.

He _knew _that voice. He _knew _that pair of purple stockings.

..._Oh_. Oh _god_.

They hadn't seemed to have noticed him yet, and if he could have his way it was going to stay like that.

Unfortunately, one tends to be the clumsiest when one is trying to go unnoticed. As he attempted to back out of the room his hip bumped into a table, and instead of knocking over, say, one of Stanice's saccharine kitten dolls which would have soundlessly hit the floor, he knocked over a bottle of the Killer Chef's prized Mangosteen juice. It shattered with a _deafening _crash, broken glass and sanguine juice exploding _everywhere_.

Oh _shit_.

Mackwell and Albel stopped with simultaneous gasps.

"Uh..." was all Fayt could say as Albel twisted his body to peer over the side of Mackwell's arm.

"_You_!" he roared, any embarrassment he may have had long forgotten.

"I-I'm sorry! I just kind of—it was—I didn't—"

"Get the hell out!" Albel grabbed the nearest thing at hand and hurled it at Fayt's head; he skillfully dodged it and scurried off, and it hit the wall, shattering completely.

Unfortunately, said nearest thing at hand had happened to be the orichalcum Mackwell had been working on, for the past few days no less, almost nearing perfection.

"...You just smashed my project!" Mackwell cried in outrage.

"Oh, shut up, alchemist maggot. Need I remind you you've got a job to finish here?" Albel wiggled his hips.

"Uhn... you'll pay for this later."

And with that he set out to finish said job, because Mackwell was not a man who liked to leave tasks unfinished.


End file.
